The One Adventure I'll Never Have
by mktoddsparky
Summary: Post Doomsday./ Barely a month after the Doctor and Rose are separated by different universes, the Doctor begins hearing Rose's voice.
1. i

**T**he One Adventure **I**'ll **N**ever Have

**.**

_"who's gonna hold his hand now?"_

**.**

* * *

"I love you."

She says it as though it has been a big secret until now, now when there's but seconds before we're separated forever. Now, as though I'd never caught a glimpse of it in her eyes, in the curve of her lips as she smiled at me. Now, as if I can't see the very essence of Rose Tyler breaking and crumbling behind tear-filled eyes. _Oh Rose, I know._

"Quite right, too." My voice breaks on the last word, refusing to behave in the one moment I need it to. "And I suppose, if it's my last chance to say it..."

It isn't. She's known it from the moment that I took her hand that first night and saved her from the clutches of mannequins. We've said it to each other in every way imaginable, through every grasp of the hand and hug, every adventure, every universe. Every way but this. It never needed to be said until now.

"Rose Tyler-"

But it's too late. Something flickers in Rose's eyes, a dying light, and then I'm gone.

I don't think I'll ever forget the haunting expression on Rose's face when I was torn away, the sound of her name on my lips.

* * *

_"-I love you."_

The sound of my own voice ricocheting across the walls of the TARDIS startles me, mainly because I haven't spoken. I slam my head against one of the spriggs at the base of the heart, mumbling a few choice words. The whispers of the other my voice echo around me, fading to whispers. Odd. I haven't accidentally returned to a time frame I've visited before, have I?

_"Doctor, you can't...you can't be gone. Please. Doctor!"_

I go completely still, the sheer terror behind the words rendering me immobile. I must be in an old time frame with my duplicate mucking about, otherwise I'd have no conceivable way of hearing her voice. For a moment, hope rises to clutter up my chest, but I refuse to consider it. Instead, I focus on the rugged state of the pedals on the side of the TARDIS's mainframe, calculating each chip in the wood. Most of those had been her fault, with her long nails always scratching about.

_"Doctor."_ Rose's voice is softer, fading away. _"I can't do this, not with you gone. Please, Doctor."_ Oh god, the tears in her voice. _"Please don't leave me here."_

"What the bloody hell is going on?" Has she found a way to open a small rift in between the two universes? I'd say it were impossible but Rose had surprised me with her ingenuity in the past. If anyone were capable of such a feat, it would be my Rose.

Moving slowly across the deck, my feet feeling as though they are coated in cement, I reach for the main controls of the TARDIS.

I've got to follow that voice. I cannot lose her again.

* * *

I'm deposited in a little town on the coast of Bristol. The date on the teleprompter reads August 18th, 2006, barely a month after Rose and I had been separated in Bad Wolf Bay. The call of Rose's voice is potent here, lacing the air. I step cautiously out of the TARDIS, emerging into an alleyway outside a small flat. There are a few children paying outside, tumbling about on the street. The ground is hard, flat here and sloping down about a hundred feet in front of me, eventually bleeding into sand.

The voice is coming from the flat, the room in the back of the building to be precise. I hurry toward the door, my feet determined to grow wings, and raise my hand to knock. With a funny, tickling feeling, my fingers go through the door. I giggle, pulling back to look at my arm.

_Oh. That is what this is._

I think of beaches and a small hand drifting close to my face. The brittle hope in my chest crumbles to pieces. Then I step through the door.

"Pete, for the last time," Jackie shrieks from the kitchenette to my right, "I've told you not to watch your shows on the telly when I'm around."

"Rose doesn't mind."

"Rose doesn't mind anything anymore."

I flinch at the mention of Rose and press myself to the wall next to me, watching as Pete reclines further in his chair. Instead of turning off his show, Pete reaches for the remote and turns the program up until it is blaring.

"Pete!"

"What?" Pete asks, ruffling that ginger hair of his I've always secretly wanted to shear off and wear. "Aw, c'mon Jackie. The Doctor's given us a second chance. Are you gonna sit there and waste it jabberin' at me?"

Something on Jackie's face must give, because suddenly Pete looks about ten times more relaxed. His shoulders slump and he sends a soft, adoring expression in the direction of the kitchen.

"You shouldn't mention The Doctor around here," Jackie says, her remark half-hearted. "You know what it does to her, Pete. Honestly."

"She isn't here to hear me, Jacks," Pete answers, reaching out a hand. I hear the sound of socks on carpet.

Jackie pops through the door to the sitting room. "She's right back there, Pete," she says, taking her husband-from-another-universe's hand and squeezing. Her wedding band glints in the light.

Pete's mouth opens and his throat works soundlessly for a moment.

"You know what I mean," he says at last.

I take one step forward and then another, trying to put pressure on the balls of my feet. I know that I'm not really here; however, old habits die hard, especially when I'm on Earth. The lingering bits of Rose's voice call to me from the end of the hallway, behind a closed door that is probably latched from the inside. Casting a last look over at Jackie and Pete, I head over to the door, slowly and then all at once, My fingers press of their own the wood. They begin to sink through in a blaze of blue light, and I catch a sigh in the back of my throat.

The room is dark, the shutters drawn tightly over the windows. A crack of light spills through, catching on the edge of the wall by the bed. There are countless papers stapled there, overlapping at certain points. Some are filled with detailed notes, covered even down to the margins. They look vaguely like formulas designed to bridge the gap of nothingness between universes, but none are complete, only imagined. Others papers are occupied by drawings of the TARDIS and images of the end of the world Rose must've been able to remember well enough to sketch. _Oh, why would you do this to yourself?_ Beside the drawings of our adventures, there is a short bookcase pushed up against the wall, half-full. On top of it are a handful of leaflets with the _Torchwood_ logo written proudly on the right-hand corners.

Mickey isn't sitting beside the bed like I'd thought he would be, nor cuddled with Rose, re-claiming his territory. In fact, he isn't here at all. If I hadn't just caught the covers on the bed rising up and down slowly, I'd have assumed the two love-birds were out and about.

I take a step toward the bed, opening my mouth to call out to the bundle under the sheets even though she cannot hear me. Only a choked, little sound emerges, leaving the bitter taste of iron on my tongue. As I watch helplessly, a hand creeps out from underneath the covers and grasps at the beige pillow overhead tightly. The red, chipped nails are all too familiar; I could probably recall each and every line on her palms.

"Rose," Jackie shouts from the other side of the door. "Pete and I are off to entertain a client. If you need anything, all you have to do is call me." There's a pause. I can hear Jackie's labored breathing as she hunts for words to say. "Becky called again. She says you were supposed to turn in your new design to Torchwood last week. I taught you better than this. Hiding away doesn't solve your problems."

Unconsciously, I begin to drone out the irritating buzz of Jackie's voice, focusing entirely on the way that Rose's fingers dig ferociously into the pillow. The moment the front door slams, I give up restraining myself and sink down onto the edge of the bed. My fingers creep instinctively toward Rose's to provide comfort but I freeze when our fingertips are just inches apart. I shouldn't touch Rose. The fact that I'm here now is miracle enough. There isn't any need to prod at the tear in the Rift.

A few silent moments pass. I should go. It is nearly unbearable to be this close to Rose and yet unable to touch her, feel her, keep her safe, but something keeps me tethered. My body turns and lowers itself down onto the bed, sinking through the covers, and I'm looking right at her.

She looks as beautiful as I'd remembered her to be. Even with her cheek smushed into the edge of her arm and dried tear tracks staining the freckles on her skin, Rose Tyler is still captivating.

"I never thought I'd see you again," I whisper to her, my voice catching a little as I run my eyes down the length of her body. Rose looks as if she hasn't moved for days. Her blue jacket is rumpled - it is the same one she'd been wearing when we were confined to separate universes - and her black sweats are flecked with grime. Messy blonde hair pools around her face, in need of a good wash.

Rose's eyes flicker as I speak and the energy in the room shifts as I stare into their tired, blue depths. I know that she cannot hear me, cannot see me, but perhaps my presence might elicit a subconscious reaction within her and begin to heal. The sight of her face is certainly causing a reaction in myself; my body's humming at our proximity, something inside of me picking up the sweet essence of _Rose_. Rose isn't broken - she's too strong for that - but the longer that I look at her, soaking in her features, the more convinced I am that Rose has retreated deep into her mind. It is time to begin coaxing her out.

Rose shifts, then, sliding underneath the sheets until she's resting on the same pillow as I am with her head tucked into the crook of my neck. For a moment I wonder if she can actually see me, but with the way that her eyes are flitting everywhere except for the length of my body, it is highly improbable. Even still, as I give up with a rattling breath and rest my head against hers, the taut lines of Rose's face soften. Her eyes flutter closed and she sighs heavily. _I missed you too_, I think as I gather Rose close, running my hand along a warm stomach until it is wrapped entirely about her waist. _So very much._

I close my eyes and breathe in her soft scent. Then my lips move, whispering her name over and over, caressing it. I'm still murmering the familiar syllables of Rose's name when I'm swept away, back to the too-quiet TARDIS that ceased to be my home the moment I lost Rose. I raise my hand up and sweep it across my face, catching the wetness underneath my eyes.

* * *

**to be continued**

* * *

**.-.** heads up. i've only just started series three so this will be considered AU from the end of series two on. **.-.**


	2. ii

**T**he One Adventure **I**'ll **N**ever Have

part ii

**.**

_"And she wasted years pining after him. Years of her life. 'Cause, while he was around, she never looked at anyone else."_

_"There's something I'm missing, Martha. Something really close. Staring me right in the face and I can't see it. Rose would know. A friend of mine, Rose. Right now she'd say exactly the right thing."_

**.**

"Where do you sleep?" Martha asks after we've visited Shakespeare and been threatened personally by the Queen of England. It is a perfectly acceptable question, one of little consequence but understandable all the same. As I open my mouth to respond, I catch that sneaky, familiar gleam in her eye that sparked the moment we met. It has a predatory edge to it now, as though Martha is seriously considering crawling across the main-frame of the TARDIS and smothering me with her mouth.

The thought encourages the sadness lying dormant inside both of my hearts to rise - because Rose couldn't just capture one, now could she? - and I close my mouth again. Disappointment flits across Martha's face and she smirks to cover it up, hunching her shoulders.

"Or are we putting that alongside your name in the category of things-the-Doctor-will never-reveal?" Martha jokes. Her smile is still a little too tight and I realize that I have, inadvertantly, hurt her. I often forget how delicate human feelings are when wrapped up in romantic intentions.

"Nah," I drawl, smiling at her in an effort to relieve the sudden tension. She smiles back. "I guess I just never thought of it as an important manner."

Martha crosses her arms half-playfully. "Well it is," she says. "Can't have you sleeping on any park benches, now can we?"

She really cares, Martha does, and it makes it all the more difficult to keep my distance. Sure, a little crush won't kill her, but the part of myself conditioned over hundreds of years to save people argues this point. But I can't. I kissed her in the hospital, partly because of the rush of joy I got realizing that I wasn't quite alone anymore. Partly, also, because ever since Wolf Bay, I've been dealing with an urge to hold, to claim, primal human needs whose origin I blame on Rose. Now my lips cannot seem to control themselves. I wanted to kiss her and I still do. I quite like this spunky, determined woman. But she needs someone who can grant her stability, someone who is capable of loving her beyond the point of reason. These are shoes I cannot fill.

"Doctor?" Martha interrupts worriedly.

I snap back into it. "Right. Well, not to worry, Martha Jones. I'm not sleepin' on any park benches." I flash a cheeky grin over my shoulder at her, my fingers still working to stabilize the landing coordinates of the TARDIS.

"So, where are you sleeping?" she pushes, stumbling into the main-frame as the TARDIS jerks through the time vortex.

"Oh, you know." I have to show her now. She'll keep asking if I stall and besides, there really isn't anything to hide. Martha deserves at least a fraction of my trust. "Give me a second 'ere." I press a few buttons and the coordinates lock. Then I reach underneath the main-frame, grasping a tiny lever that's hidden in the base. It's painted the same color and practically invisible. Wouldn't want anyone invading my privacy, now would I?

The moment I pull the lever, one of the panels midway between the mainframe and the side wall of the TARDIS slides open, revealing a shallow flight of stairs.

"That's brilliant," Martha breathes, stepping slowly toward the staircase. I follow, my smile widening as she glances up at me in wonder.

"Isn't it?"

"Oh, _shut_ up." She smacks my arm and then heads down the staircase.

The room is pretty modest, according to Time Lord standards. One of my friend's fathers had been the bragging type. He'd constructed his spaceship inside of an orange, the rooms vast, adorned with his many trophies and accomplishments. The moment any new companions or fellow Time Lords entered his orange, they were greeted by a faceful of stinging juice and a _"I told you it was bigger on the inside"_ comment from the owner.

So, in comparison, my room is tiny, decrepit. But oh, how I love it. I really do.

"This is really brilliant," Martha says again, taking in the various relics I'd accumulated during my travels scattered purposefully across the floor. She takes several steps forward, off the stairs and into the middle of the room. A window to Martha's left spills starlight across her face, dancing blue and purple.

"Is that glass?" she asks, pointing toward the window. When I nod, she adds, "How is it still intact? The pressure out here must be massive."

"Time Lord technology," I remind her, rapping the glass twice.

"It's incredible," Martha says. She looks up at me, eyes fogged with amazement quickly bleeding away into something else. Her gaze drops to my mouth, and Martha quickly jerks her eyes up before she thinks I'll notice. If I were human, I might've missed it. "You can see entire galaxies from here." Two pink circles dot her cheeks, the blush more out of excitement more than anything.

I still take a step back, offering her a distant smile before heading over to the alcove in which my bed is stored. The covers have been thrown off and lay crumpled at the foot of the mattress. Pressing my fingers into the bed, I frown. The mattress restrains the clouds making up the majority of it, but they still move, bumping gently against my fingertips.

"You have a bed."

"Do I? I hadn't noticed."

"Real funny," Martha says. I can hear the amusement in her tone and figure that she's rolling her eyes. "I didn't think Time Lords needed to sleep."

"We don't need to sleep as much as humans," I tell her, skimming my hand over the edge of my pillow and stirring the scent that lies there. It climbs in the air, rosy, fresh. "A couple times a century is usually sufficient."

_"You have your own hidden world down here. One more place for you to be lonely." _

_"It's inevitable, really. Every companion I've ever had thought they'd last forever, but they don't."_

_"Did you ever consider finding a companion who isn't human? Seems like they'd last much longer." _

_"Trust me, love, I've tried. But they just don't have the same spark humans do."_

_"We have a spark, do we?" A cheeky smile._

_"You especially."_

_"Don't sweet talk me, Doctor." She laughs, despite herself, pressing her head into his shoulder. He lowers them onto the bed, side by side._

_"No, I mean it. Rose Tyler, you are quite extrordinary."_

_His fingers curl around her cheek and she beams at him. _

"Is the bed moving?" Martha asks as she comes to a stop by my side.

"It's made up of clouds from the moon in the Siarot universe. They're dormant. Harmless, really." I pat the bed before pulling my hand back to rest against my side.

"Wait, the clouds are alive?" Martha is giving me the _I-travel-with-a-madman_ look.

"Of course."

The conversation dies after that. Martha studies the bed carefully, eyes pausing on a shirt bunched up against the wall. "That's not yours," she points out tightly, the excitement in her eyes dimming. I'd like to whisper reassurances in her ear but Martha really should've known better than to develop feelings for a Time Lord. The hypocrisy of the idea nearly makes me laugh.

"No, it isn't," I concede, reaching out for the wrinkled purple fabric and smoothing it in my grasp. It still smells faintly like its owner.

"It's _hers_."

I turn, fixing Martha with a sharp look. The indignation on her face fades, replaced with shock. "Yes, this is Rose's shirt." I press my thumb into the material. "When we were separated, all of her luggage was left here." With my head, I gesture toward the back of the room where several multi-colored bags sit, gathering dust.

"Right," Martha says, shaking her head as though trying to ground herself. Her jealousy is obvious and makes me sick. Every time I see it on her face I cringe; she's pining away, and all I can see is an echo of Rose in the back of her eyes. "Did she ever stay down here with you?"

I look at her for a long moment, my smile fading completely, then turn my attention back to the bed.

_He tickles her sides, hands sliding across her white, cotton shirt. She giggles. _

_"Stop it! That's not fair!"_

_"Why isn't it fair?" It feels like his smile will burst right off his face. His cheeks hurt._

_"I don't know h-how to get you back." She's laughing so hard that her face is turning red. _

_He rolls, pinning her underneath him. She tips her head back, gasping as he growls, breath spilling across her neck. _

_"I'm sure you'll find a way." _

I blink, the sense of Rose fading away a little. Martha is looking at me like I might lash out or something equally preposterous.

"No," I croak, turning and heading for the stairs. "She never stayed down here."

I catch the way that Martha's face falls.

"That's what I thought," she says softly, following me up.

* * *

This time, when I find myself steering the TARDIS toward the direction of Rose's voice, I realize that I'm not _actually_ moving my ship anywhere. It's a figment of my imagination designed to make this experience less jarring, I determine immediately after. I'm not really going anywhere, at least not physically. There must be some kind of mental tie binding Rose and I.

That doesn't make it any less real, though.

When I step out of the TARDIS, I'm not in Bristol. Rather, it appears to be Canary Wharf. In my universe, Canary Wharf had been completely obliterated. Here, tall stacks of rubble reach toward the skies. Among the piles of cement and structural bones is Rose.

My breath catches in my chest at the sight of her. She looks a hell of a lot better than the last time I saw her, clothed in jeans and a purple, long-sleeved shirt with buttons down the front. Other than a bit of mascara and lipgloss, Rose isn't wearing make-up, but she pulls it off fantastically. The wind's whipping her hair about, flinging it across her face and around the edges of her collar until she gathers it up in a loose bun.

I hurry toward her, the smile growing on my face until it feels about to burst again. How I've missed this feeling. I took it for granted when I had Rose by my side, alive and well.

By the time I reach her side, Rose has ducked down into the rubble and is sifting through it with gloved hands. What she is looking for, I have no clue. Little bits of machinery are lying here and there, scuttling along the ground like crabs as the wind pushes them; everything else has been crushed into the foundation. Regardless, I crowd closer until I'm only several feet away, crouched down at Rose's level. She's breathing evenly, her lips pursed in a familiar smile as she works. Again, it is as if she can feel my presence.

Several minutes later, Rose digs something out between two cement blocks and holds it close to her face. It's green, glowing faintly.

"Mickey!" Rose calls out, her face lighting up. She scrambles to her feet, looking around for her companion. A moment later, Mickey pops up in the middle of a tangled wire web. "Look, I found another one!"

Mickey rushes to her side. "Are you sure?"

"Yeah. It's in fantastic condition." Rose shows off her prize, glancing up at Mickey as if for his approval.

"Are you sure this is even going to work?" Mickey asks her, taking the piece and dropping it into one of the side pouches on his backpack.

Rose shrugs. "I have to believe that it will."

"Why are you even doing this?" Mickey's tone is general now. He grabs Rose by the hand and starts tugging her in the direction I'd come from. "Is it some kind of revenge plot, or-"

Rose pulls her hand away. "Do you really think I'd be out here planning petty revenge schemes involving chips that may or may not work?" Bowing her head, she studies the ground under her feet, eyelashes fluttering. When Rose looks back up, her eyes are wearier, streaked through with grief. I suck in a breath at the sight, one I'd hoped never to see on her face. "Even if I wanted to, I haven't seen a Dalek or a Cyberman since...you know."

"Rose," Mickey begins, reaching out to comfort her. My own hands itch with the desire to do the same. I'd give anything to hold her close, just once, feel her soft hair pressing into the bottom of my jaw.

To my surprise, Rose shrinks away from Mickey's touch. "Torchwood is gone," she says, voice the tiniest bit shaky, "and the people in this world have nothing to protect them from what's out there." She doesn't specify what, but I can read her expression and know that hundreds of species and worlds are flitting through her mind, quick as the brush of a hand. "If I've got to stay here then I might as well be useful. I can't do ordinary anymore, Mick."

With a last brave smile, Rose turns away from Mickey and heads back toward the rubble. I don't follow, but from this position I can see the way that her face folds in on itself, unable to cling to the mask Rose has created. The ancient, exhausted look is back in her brown eyes and in the tight set of her jaw. God, Rose is so fantastic. So incredibly fantastic. The way that she holds it all in, burying it thoroughly and focusing on protecting the people in a universe she feels she doesn't belong to...it's a burden Rose shouldn't have to carry alone but one she isn't ready to share just yet.

"You're so strong," I murmer, my voice carried away in the breeze along with the rest of my body.

When I open my eyes, I'm lying on the bed in the alcove. Rose's shirt is clutched in my fingers and her scent drifts over me, familiar, comforting.

* * *

**to be continued**

* * *

**a/n**: So sorry I didn't update sooner. I was catching up on the series. Just got through watching the Doctor and Rose separated yet again and needed to write something nostalgic.


	3. iii

**T**he One Adventure **I'**ll **N**ever Have

part iii

**.**

_"I spent Christmas day right over there, the Powell Estate. With this... family. My friend, she had this family. Well, they were m... Still. Gone now."_

_"I just thought... 'cos I'd changed..."  
"Yeah, I thought 'cos you'd changed... you might not want me anymore."_

**.**

This time, I'm prepared for it.

I'm not stupid, hardly, but even a Time Lord cannot perfectly pinpoint these sporadic timey-wimey shifts between parallel universes. _Except_ on Christmas Day. If there were ever a day for the universe to kick me across the lines between parallel universes, it _would_ be on Christmas. It isn't like I've already got a knot in the pit of my stomach thinking about that one Christmas: silly paper hats, laughing over a table of food, Rose's hand gliding across mine under the protection of the table.

Oh, _wait_. Brilliant.

It wasn't snowing in my universe, but it is in hers. Fat flakes dribble through the skies, perching on my hair as though it's a homing beacon. I've been dropped unceremonically onto a bench across from a line of little shops - filled with tempting sweets. Though the people meandering through the quiet street don't appear to find anything odd about my sudden appearance, I feel like a flashing neon sign. _Newcomer! Universe-jumping alien!_

A couple passes in front of me, the chap giving me a curt nod as he wraps an arm about his blonde-haired companion. She snuggles into his side, brown eyes peeping curiously at me from the safety of his embrace. She offers up a little smile, a silent Christmas greeting, but I'm too busy tracing her hair and reassuring my hearts that it isn't the right texture to be Rose's. They're busy galloping about in my chest like idiots, begging me to reach out for the woman so alike Rose.

_Quit mucking around_, I tell myself. _It isn't her_.

Too late, I quirk my lips up. She's already got her eyebrows pulled together in suspicion. Ducking my head and scratching my neck, I wait for them to amble away.

With the couple gone, I'm alone on the street. The quiet, slumbering street.

It doesn't feel right.

Of _course_ it doesn't, I realize a moment later, smacking my forehead. In this universe, there haven't been alien life-forms looming overhead the past few years. Christmas is still just a holiday here, not a reminder to lock all the doors and windows and hope that you're not going to be disintegrated.

Peaceful. For once.

I glance down the street, tracing the blurred edge of the couple as they head off to spend their evening together. The wind kicks up, sending the girl's blonde hair flying. Suddenly, there's a lump in my throat.

_"Well, this has been brilliant, but I have planets to see, the TARDIS to tend to-"_

_"Won't you stay? Just for a little bit?" From the porch, Rose looks up at him with round, brown eyes, eyelashes fluttering. A tiny snowflake falls onto her lower lip, remains suspended there, and he finds himself staring at the way it teeters on the edge of her pink mouth._

_Without thinking - too much at least; can't help a brilliant mind - he reaches out with his hand, thumb skimming over her lip. _

_"Snowflake," he says softly when Rose sucks in a breath. _

_"Thanks."_

_Rose doesn't talk after that. Her expression is caught somewhere between hesitant hope and disappointment, as though she's waiting for him to walk away, back to his exciting life that won't wither away on him._

_"Yeah, I think I will stay," he says, hand skimming over Rose's cheek and down her blonde hair. _

_Then they're grinning at each other like children, the irreplacable joy he's only ever able to find with her. The smile on her face dims only slightly when he reaches for her hand, tangling their fingers together, but it's a good change. She looks softer now, eyes shaded with shyness as our thumbs dance together. _

_"Come inside, yeah?" Rose tugs gently on his hand, still apparently surprised that he chose to stay. _

_"Lead the way, madam," he says, bending at the waist in an awkward bow. _

_Her laughter rings out across the porch, shades in the dimples that emerge on her rosy cheeks. _

I still haven't turned my head, though my vision has blurred. Blinking, I watch the woman peek around at me one last time, looking even warier than before. I lean forward, preparing to stand and walk away before I'm saddled with assault or some ridiculous verdict; then, as my bum lifts off the bench, I realize why cold panic has been growing in my gut: She can see me. No one is supposed to be able to see me.

"Alright, what did you do now?" I croak, tilting my head back and staring up at the sky.

Stars twinkle at me but offer no reply. If I'm visible here then a ship somewhere out there ought to sense my voice. Knowing my luck, a stray Dalek ship would pick up the transmissions and hurry down to _"exterminate"_ me.

Then, one star twinkles brighter than the rest, trailing across the sky. A smile breaks across my face and I wake. It's an Isolus pod, not big enough to contain me - I'd crush their petal-like bodies, unfortunately - but wonderous to behold.

"Well, aren't you beautiful," I breathe, waving once more as the Isolus pod winks once, twice, then disappears through a tiny Rift into their own universe.

I'm left alone again, shivering in my thin coat.

"You can take me away now," I beseech the Universe one more time. "You don't understand. I can't -" my voice cuts off with a quiet little sound. The Universe remains stubbornly silent but the snow lightens, offering a brief respite. Officially out of options, I head across the street toward the row of little shops. The last time I'd seen Rose was in the wreckage of Canary Wharf, back at the beginning of fall. Her familiar features are starting to slip from my mind, though I try to keep them put.

_"C'mon then." They're moving inside, the door closed with a quick push of his trainer. The stairs groan under their weight and they don't talk about the fact that their hands are still joined lightly, tantalizingly. When they reach Rose's room, their shoes are discarded against the wall, his trainer brushing her grey boot. _

_On the bed, they sit across from each other, legs crossed, knees brushing. _

_"Glad you're feeling better," Rose says at last, eyes bouncing around the room, landing on anything but the Doctor. She eyes a bulletin board with pictures from when she was a kid fondly, wondering why it's still gathering dust by the closet. _

_Chuckling, he rasps, "Yeah, well, regeneration process is a bit of a doozy." _

_Rose's face darkens with guilt. "I'm sorry. It's my fault that you had to-"_

_"Shh. Sh, sh." Rose opens her mouth to try and speak again, but his thumb pressed against her mouth cuts off that plan of action. "The only thing you're at fault for is coming back to save me in the first place. The heart of the TARDIS could've killed you, Rose." _

_"Yeah, well," she mumbles, blushing now, "I couldn't just let you die, now could I?" _

_Finally, Rose looks up, meeting his steady gaze. He's smiling affectionately at her, his head tilted just to the right and brown hair flopping in all directions. He really is gorgeous, Rose finds herself thinking, drawing in a small breath as she raises her hand up. _

Just as I'm passing the last of the shops, watching drapes being drawn across the windows and locks fitted into the door, clinking, it happens. Someone steps out of the final shop, the bell tinkling behind her, and we nearly collide. I'm able to fling myself to the side, not before our fingers brush, sending electricity up my spine. I look up, opening my mouth to apologize, but nothing comes out.

Rose glances around her, looking a bit confused. Her eyes pass right over me, liquid brown, and it is clear that she can't see me. My hearts fall a little, even as my skin begins to flush at our proximity. Pushing my own feelings aside, I soak Rose in. With red cheeks, swollen mouth and hair a little longer than before, Rose is quite a sight.

"How could I ever have forgotten you?" I ask myself.

Rose is still looking about. "Could've sworn I saw a bloke," she mumbles, reaching up and straightening her purple cap, lips quivering in the cold. Her shoulders slump a little. "Oh, quit it. There's never anyone there."

Before I can figure out just what she means, Rose is digging into her bag for her mobile. She dials a number and then presses the mobile to her ear. The moment a man's voice rumbles on the other side, Rose brightens considerably. "'Ello. Everyone all right?"

I deflate into the wall by the little shop. She's found some other bloke. I knew it would happen; hell, I practically begged Rose to move on with her life, but I didn't think it'd be quite this soon.

Rose laughs huskily. "Yeah. I told you that I was gonna stop off and get a gift for my mum." She pauses, listening, then rolls her eyes. "Alright, fine, you were right. I forgot, okay? Got a little caught up at work." Her voice tightens at that bit and I wonder if she's still working to rebuild Torchwood. Knowing beautiful, stubborn Rose, she is, putting in everything she's got.

Juggling the mobile over to her other ear, Rose reaches into her bag and pulls out a piece of paper. I catch the word _trans-dimensional_ on it before Rose flips it toward her face, blocking the script from me.

"Well, I thought this was a little more important than dinner. I see mum and dad every day and we just reached a-" Rose cuts off, pressing her lips together. She takes a few deep breaths in through her mouth, leaning further into the mobile. "You're right. I'm sorry. I guess I just got excited."

The man on the other end mumbles something that sounds like _"...know how much this means to you."_

Rose's fingers loosen and the paper slips, trailing toward the ground. She doesn't notice, too busy restraining something that's fighting to break free. Her face droops momentarily, revealing that weary expression that makes it hard for me to breathe. But as soon as her mask drops, Rose wrestles it back into control, her lips settling back into a tired smile. I try to ignore the wetness around her eyes.

"No," Rose replies gently, fingers gripping the mobile ferociously. "You really don't." She sighs once more. "It's not your fault. Don't feel bad, alright?" There's a small pause in which my eyes fall to observe the paper.

I barely hear Rose say, "I love you, Mickey," the thundering of my hearts drowning everything out. The paper folds easily into my hands and, scooping it up, I stare at it.

_R__ose expects to be stopped, but when her fingers brush the underside of his jaw, the Doctor shudders, leaning into her touch. __As she continues to trace the planes of his face, Rose's expression lightens with awe. He doesn't understand quite how raw this is between them, how much he needs this. Ironic, really, that out of all the infinite beings in the countless universes he has visited, Rose had to be the one that makes everything slow, stop. This finite, fragile human being has the ability to make every second count between them, and outside of them, in every realm they visit. __Never before Rose has he been anything but a Time Lord. _

_Rose mumbles something and it disorientes him. _

_"What?" he asks as everything comes back into focus. _

_Her fingers trace the curve of his cheekbone. _

_"I think I could get used to this body," Rose repeats teasingly. In her eyes, however, the sentiment echoes far more seriously. _

_"We'll just have to see," he replies, smiling. He wants to draw Rose in for a hug but it isn't the time. Not yet, not with his new face and this moment so infinitely breakable. "Merry Christmas, Rose." _

_"Merry Christmas, Doctor," Rose answers slowly, the moment fading away as the sound of Jackie's voice reverberates across the hall. _

Rose is walking off. I'm still staring at the drawing of the TARDIS, at its precise coloring and painstaking detail. Around the drawing of the TARDIS, Rose has scribbled a handful of notes corresponding to time travel. These aren't easy equations Rose has written out. I can't imagine how on earth she got ahold of them let alone comprehended their meaning. Even now, a universe away, Rose Tyler is still surprising me.

"Thank you," Rose says, coming to a stop in front of me. "I thought I'd lost that." Her brown eyes are wide, the fear still bleeding away. She reaches out for the drawing and I hand it over, trying not to stare at her.

"Not a problem," I answer slowly, wondering how Rose can see me and why she isn't screaming at me for leaving her in an parallel universe.

Rose is eyeing me just as closely.

"I'm sorry. You just look really familiar," Rose apologizes when I catch her staring first at my eyes and then at my mouth. Unconsciously, I swipe my tongue over my lips and she follows the movement before jerking her head away, blushing. "Do I know you?"

I hesitate. It would be so easy to clear everything up. But I can feel it now, tugging at my feet. In a moment I'll be gone.

"No," I respond, hearts sinking in unison, "I don't think so. Just got one of those faces, I suppose."

"Yeah," Rose says, nodding. "Yeah. Right."

We're left just looking at each other again and it's so easy to see the way Rose is holding herself up. I did this to her.

"Well, I should be goin'," Rose cuts in, her brown eyes still locked on mine. A snowflake drifts down, landing in her beautiful blonde hair, and I nearly reach up to brush it off. "Thanks again, mate."

"Not a problem." I wave as she turns to go, my hand heavy. "Merry Christmas."

A smile climbs its way onto Rose's face. "Merry Christmas," she answers, turning around and hurrying off.

The snow begins to fall again, eagerly pouring from the skies. It embraces me, the wind whispering soothingly as it carries me away.

* * *

**to be continued**

* * *

**a/n**: I'm sorry. I couldn't resist doing a Christmas one, especially since I just finished Series 4 and the Doctor's last moment is spent with Rose, even if she doesn't know him yet. That just broke my heart, so I guess you could say that is an ode to Tennant. I hope that you all are enjoying this as much as I am.


	4. iv

**T**he One Adventure **I**'ll **N**ever Have

part iv

**.**

_"If you could touch the alien sand and hear the cries of strange birds, and watch them wheel in another sky, _

_would that satisfy you?"_

_- 1st Doctor_

_"Think you've seen it all? Think again. Outside those doors, we might see anything. We could find new worlds, terrifying monsters, impossible things."_

_- 10th Doctor_

**.**

Believe it or not, there aren't always life-threatening situations surrounding England - why is it always _England_, anyway? During one of these auspicious lulls, I find myself yearning to visit an old bar on one of the moons that used to orbit Gallifrey. Surprisingly, when Gallifrey burned, the moon remained, orbiting empty space as though Gallifrey had simply stepped away to use the loo. It's impossible, really, but in my lifetime I have observed many impossible things. This is not one I wish to study too closely.

"Where are we going?" Donna asks from the other side of the TARDIS. She's busy trying to pull her flaming hair into a ponytail; strands keep falling free, looping obstinately around her cheeks.

I adjust several levers on the mainframe, tongue sticking through a gap in my teeth, and press one of the glowing, orange buttons that has "_must not touch under any circumstances"_ scrawled on it. It reminds me of the Sycorax incident on Christmas and the early moments following my ninth regeneration. Plus, it's fun to press a button that says _"don't push me."_

"_You_ are going home for a little visit," I tell her, winding up a winding-lever on the side of the mainframe. Green lights begin to climb up and down the molecular transfusion tube, the gauges slowly pumping.

"What?" Donna abandons her hair, letting it fall in thick waves over her shoulders. "Why? I thought -" she cuts off, a bit pink in the face, but I can read the distress burying itself in her eyes. She's probably thinking about how everyone keeps telling her how sorry they are, though they won't say why. But Donna's brilliant. She has to know that whatever it is they're apologizing for is, inevitably, linked to our adventures.

"Oh," I say, hurrying over to her. "No, I'm coming back. Chin up." Donna juts her jaw up at that, showing me yet again that she isn't some helpless companion doomed to wither away the moment I leave her side.

"I've been needing to visit mum anyway," Donna mumbles, shaking her head quickly and giving me a little smirk. "Can't wait to see the lecture she's been stewing up this time. You might be able to hear us rowin' from the edge of the universe."

"If it would help..." I begin, steeling myself to come inside with her.

Donna's eyes fly open. "Don't you dare. Mum'll have a fit if she sees you again."

My hand flys to the back of my neck, scratching awkwardly. "I still don't understand what I did to upset her so much," I mumble.

"Oh, I don't know," Donna starts scathingly, "maybe it was because you _blew up_ my reception-"

"In my defense, you weren't even there," I point out.

"-or maybe it had to do with you _kidnapping_ me aboard your alien spaceship," Donna blusters on.

"It's called the TARDIS," I correct her gently, unable to keep from chuckling. "And if you call the twelve bags of knickers in the TARDIS being kidnapped, I'd hate to see you prepared."

"There was a hat box too," Donna mutters.

She looks up at me, hands on her hips, and a huge smile breaks out across her face. We both start laughing. I lean against the mainframe of the TARDIS, wiping my hand under my eyes, trying to take in a breath without giggling.

"So, what's this mysterious trip you're going on, then?" Donna asks, pressing a hand to her stomach as her laughter finally dies away. Underneath her hand, Donna's stomach quivers with aftershocks. "Blimey, I haven't laughed that hard in a long time."

"Just givin' in to my nostalgia," I tell her, wrapping my arm around Donna's and leading her toward the doors of the TARDIS. "I won't be gone long." I push open one of the doors and sunlight spills in, lighting up Donna's face. She doesn't head out like I'd expected her to, though. Her lips flutter as though Donna is trying to think of something to say.

"You'll be alright though, yeah?" Donna asks at last, the slightest bit hesitant. The light climbs up her cheekbones and reaches her eyes, making them shine.

"Of course," I respond immediately, pulling Donna in for a hug. She smells like flowers; it makes me stiffen in her arms. "I'm always alright," I add more softly.

I can feel Donna shaking her head against my shoulder and know what she's thinking. _No, you're really not._ Instead of verbalizing it, though, Donna simply squeezes me tighter for a second, then pulls back.

"Be back in a tick," I say, smiling.

"You'd better be," Donna answers, stepping out of the TARDIS. I can see her mum in the window now, face pressed to the window as she gapes at me. Donna's grandfather has no such qualms, however. He's already opening his front door and stepping out, waving at us.

I wave back, give Donna last look, and then disappear back into the TARDIS.

* * *

Unlike other moons I've visited, the moon orbiting the space that used to contain Gallifrey has installed an air shield encompassing the entire surface of the moon. I land the TARDIS a moderate distance from the entrance to the small diner outside the main sector of buildings established here.

The diner doesn't look much different, though it has been centuries. The walls are still cracked, little rifts in time and space that help visitors arrive from their universe to this place. However, the cracks are much bigger than before, I notice with a certain bit of sadness. The more visitors seeping through, the wider the cracks get. All too soon this moon and the places to which it is tied through the cracks will combust, sucked into each other.

I head inside and scurry straight for the barstools made out of fungus from one of the water-based planets, brushing past tables filled with various species. I take my seat in the same barstool I sat in so long ago and turn to look at the stool beside mine. Too empty. She used to-

"Doctor, is that really you?"

I look up, going rigid. "_You_," I breathe, glaring down the Voord.

The Voord looks confused. "I'm sorry, Doctor, did I...?" She trails off, staring at me through the black pits of her mask-like face. The rest of her body, covered in leather, rubs against her skin as she bends down, reaching for a glass.

_Innocent_, I realize, the memory returning to me as I slump in my chair. Not only innocent, but known.

"I'm sorry, Ajrater," I apologize, accepting the drink she offers me. It goes down slowly, burning.

Ajrater and her mother were among the few Voord that refused to fight against the Time Lords. While they hadn't explicitly pulled away from their homeland, they'd stationed themselves here, hidden between their planet and our own. Ajrater had been a little girl the last time I'd seen her, playing in the water tank by the back corner of the diner.

"No apologies are necessary, Doctor," Ajrater answers, pressing a black, webbed hand to mine and squeezing. "It's good to see a familiar face after so long. I saw your planet, after...oh Doctor, I'm so sorry." Her voice is tight, bordering on choked.

"After it burned," I finish for her flatly, taking the second drink Ajrater pushes my way. "Your mother, where is she?"

Ajrater bows her masked head. Water trickles down the side of her hidden face, unable to be contained when Voord are in emotional flux. The water is not tears - not like humans - but something akin to their life-force.

"Dead," Ajrater responds. Her hands dig into the wood of the bar and cracks begin weaving through. "For a long time now. She lived a long life, Doctor, a good life, but seeing Gallifrey burn took much of her life-force."

"And yet you stayed here." I play with the glass, rolling it between my fingers. "You could've left. Why did you stay?"

Ajrater looks at me for a long time before turning to observe the rest of the room. I can feel faint contentment emanating from within her.

"This is my home," she responds finally, staring off into an empty corner. A long sigh reverberates out of her, echoing across the bar. "What made you choose to return here, Doctor?"

"Hmm?" I hadn't been paying attention, focused instead on the same water tank in the back corner. It's empty, the water brown with disuse, but it speaks volumes that Ajrater kept it all this time.

"I haven't seen you in nearly nine centuries," Ajrater says. "What made you decide to come back now?"

"Oh. Right." I begin to fiddle with the glass again and Ajrater snatches it from me deftly, barking a laugh. "I guess I just needed to be reminded of how it feels to be home," I say, unable to really verbalize it.

"Where's Susan?" Ajrater asks curiously.

The pain bites into me, fresh as the day I lost her. I'd forgotten that Ajrater and Susan used to be friends. It had gotten so easy to see Susan as my granddaughter, only that, pressed into a page and preserved in my memory along with the rest of my people. But Susan had lived, breathed, loved, touched lives as much as I destroy them.

My voice breaks when I murmer, "Gone."

Ajrater goes still. No life-force drains out of her, not yet, though I suspect it will later.

"For a long time now," I add, repeating Ajrater's earlier words.

Pushing myself off of the barstool, unable to keep myself from looking at the one that Susan had occupied so long ago. The fungus wilts under my inspection, the barstool flinching away as though I've struck it.

"I need to go," I manage through gritted teeth. Slapping down some money on the bar and sparing Ajrater a last, tortured look, I hurry back to the safety of the TARDIS.

* * *

The universe, for the first time in a very long time, doesn't make anything better. Maybe it never did, I muse as I lean against the open door of the TARDIS and stare at the passing beauty that is the Andromeda Galaxy. Normally, when everything goes wrong, all I have to do is take to the stars and the ache inside goes away. Even if for a little bit, the ache goes away.

But not this time.

This time, I look at the universe, at the dancing colors, and I feel weary.

I am nine hundred and six and I feel old. I have lost so much, had to leave so many people behind. Just thinking about it seems ridiculous, because I have been granted the treasure that is regeneration. As a Time Lord, I have the power to explore every universe imaginable. I can touch the stars and yet I sit here, mourning.

The tug comes then, and I nearly sob with relief. _How undignified_, is all I have time to think before I'm being swept away through the Void.

* * *

I'm in what appears to be an airplane hangar. The silver panels overhead have been welded together seemlessly, though they aren't a material found in the human world.

"I can't believe it's really you."

Peeping around a cylinder marked with a yellow _toxic_ sign, I catch sight of Rose. Leaning against the wall in front of her is none other than Captain Jack Harkness. He's breathing hard, the watch/time-travel thing-a-ma-jig around his wrist beeping erratically. It only takes a second to realize that this is the Jack from my universe. In that same space of time, Rose has launched herself toward Jack, throwing her arms around him and grinning into the side of his neck. Her hair blankets her back, longer than ever. She's got it highlighted with bits of honey-brown now.

Staring at Jack, I swallow down the bitterness which is wondering how Jack can get here and hold Rose close while I'm stuck behind. Jack looks ecstatic to see Rose. Once he finally releases her, gripping her shoulders loosely, Captain Flirtation even offers up a smirk to Mickey.

"Oh, stop it," I mumble, unable to help myself.

"Quit it," Rose says with a little laugh, guiding Jack toward what looks vaguely like an airplane in the center of the hangar.

"What?" Jack asks, still grinning. "If I neglect my powers of sexual persuasion, they start to wilt!"

Rose rolls her eyes. "You'd flirt with a rock," she mumbles, coming to a stop by the steps leading up into the airplane.

"You know me too well," Jack answers.

Mickey rolls his eyes, still standing a few feet away from the pair, closer to Rose. He keeps glancing at Rose as if he's afraid she'll run off with this intruder. _He's jealous_, I realize. After all this time, Mickey-Mc-Mickey is still trying to keep the spark alive between him and Rose. Though from the little look Rose gives Mickey, I have to wonder if he's the only one trying.

"How'd you even get here anyway?" Mickey asks, not even trying to hide his hostility.

"Yeah," Rose says, eyeing Jack curiously. "That's a good question. How _did_ you get here?"

"The universe is a crazy place," Jack answers simply, keeping his face blank. Rose doesn't look convinced but Mickey dismisses the subject with a shrug, accepting Jack's answer. "So, what do we have here?"

A grin splits Rose's face then, immediate and infectious. I feel myself smiling just looking at her.

"I've been working on it for awhile now," Rose says, beginning to ascend the steps. I slink out from my hiding place, wondering I'll still be visible like I was on Christmas. But it appears not. No one looks in my direction, even when I slap my trainers purposefully in a noisy fashion.

"C'mon then," Rose continues, beckoning Jack up. He shrugs, following her. Mickey gives them one last, uneasy look before heading off to the other end of the hangar where a huge table with paperwork sits waiting for him. I take the stairs after Rose and Jack.

I find them by the cock-pit. They're seated in the two chairs, overlooking a vast array of buttons that are practically begging to be pushed. I keep my distance, knowing I'll be too tempted should I step closer.

"Is this what I think it is?" Jack asks slowly. He narrows his eyes, studying Rose. "You're not still..."

"I'll always be working on that," Rose answers mysteriously, "as long as I live. But until then, I've got this." She flips a few levers and a 3D screen lights up in front of us, glowing green, showing a detailed map of what appears to be this universe. "It took me awhile to figure out. I had to rewire the stabilizers so that, once I left this universe, the pressure wouldn't tear her to pieces." Rose runs a loving hand over the dashboard.

It's not an airplane, I think to myself as Rose continues educating Jack about the technical aspects of what she's built. It's a spaceship. Rose Tyler has built herself a spaceship. Pride swells in my chest along with a sense of dread. She could get hurt, going out there all alone. What is she thinking?

"You're brilliant," I breathe, watching each shift of her face. Her brown eyes are beaming, her mouth animated and her hands gesturing every which way. "You're so brilliant."

Rose reaches out, flicking the levers off and dismissing the 3D screen. The engine hums as it cools off.

"So, how did you really get here?" Rose asks, leaning forward into Jack's personal space.

Jack stares back at her, mouth working as he tries to get a read on Rose's reason for asking. At last, he clears his throat and taps his watch/teleporter. "I can travel through time and space with this."

Rose presses her lips together and as I see her face light up with hope I nearly turn away.

"So, you could bring me back to him?" Rose asks calmly. Her fingers are twitching on her lip, though, and Jack captures them in his hands.

"It doesn't work like that," Jack answers her as gently as possible.

Rose blinks and her fingers quiver more forcefully. "Why not? You got here, didn't you? Damn it, Jack, you know how much I want to-"

"Rose," Jack snaps. She snaps her mouth shut. "I wish I could bring you back, I do. But I _can't_." He reaches up with one hand but Rose leans back, the hope shattering in her eyes. "I died several times alone making this trip."

"Then how are you-"

"That's a conversation for another time," Jack says, cutting Rose off smoothly.

Rose doesn't cry. She doesn't yell, or demand for answers. She just sits there, her eyes curiously blank. When at last Rose's mouth opens, all she says is, "It's been nearly two years."

"I know," Jack murmers.

"I guess I just thought...it's stupid, really, but he's the Doctor, you know?" Rose stumbles over her words. She crosses her arms over her stomach, fingers pressing into skin as though greeting a little one. "He's capable of anything, and I thought that maybe, he might..." Her voice wavers then.

_"There's five of us now. Mum, Dad, Mickey...and the baby."_

_He's not quite sure what to say when he hears that. His eyes drift to her stomach. It's been a month. _

_"You're not."_

_It couldn't be, though. He chances a look up at her, expression tender._

_She laughs, but it doesn't quite reach her eyes. "No, it's mum."_

Rose forces a smile, sweeping a hand through her hair. "It was always more than him, though," she breathes with a little laugh, gesturing toward the panel of little buttons. Her eyes flick toward Jack, glazed over with awe, with memories. "Going out there, seeing all of those different worlds...it's spectacular, Jack. I can't stay away from that."

I lean a little more heavily on the wall. This is what makes Rose different, this attitude. She was the first companion in a long time who came along to see the stars. Martha and Donna both, though lovely women, came first and foremost because of me. Only later, once they saw beauty beyond their wildest imagination, did it become more than following around a Time Lord. Rose was born to live among the stars. She was born to journey through burning cities and countless civilizations, whether I'm by her side or not.

"Well, I'll have to join you sometime," Jack says, patting her knee. "Just be careful. You'd know he'd be devastated if you were gone."

"Yeah, I know," Rose answers. She rises, pushing her seat forward until it's half hidden under the control panel. "I should probably go find Mickey. He'll think I've abandoned him."

"I should be getting back," Jack says. I squeeze myself between them as they leave the ship, the lapels of my coat nearly brushing Rose's back. From here, I can catch her scent. The hint of flower is still there, though it's faded. Now she wears a combination of sweat and something like stardust on her skin. It's mesmerizing. I inhale it, fascinated.

"Already?" Rose asks, disappointed.

"Yeah." Jack reaches out for her and she goes willingly, arms wrapping tightly about his sturdy frame. "You know me, always ready to die." He pulls away, taking several giant steps back. Flashing Rose his signature smile, Jack Harkness presses a button on his watch and is quickly swallowed up in blue light.

Rose stares at the space where Jack had vanished for a long moment before sighing and heading over to where Mickey is. I follow, of course, wondering why I haven't been sucked back into my universe yet. Not that I'm complaining.

"How's it goin', Mick?" Rose asks as she joins her friend.

Mickey looks up from a pile of papers marked with the Torchwood logo, face taut. "He gone?"

"Yeah."

"You don't look happy about it," Mickey points out as he makes his way around the table to stand in front of Rose. Grabbing her hands, Mickey guides her back toward the very corner of the room.

"How could I be?" Rose frowns, exhaling as Mickey pushes her lightly into one of the hangar's side panels. "I never thought I'd see Jack again, at least not Jack from the real universe."

"This universe is real," Mickey says. He pushes himself into Rose's space, his expression filled with understanding. I growl at the way his hands weave around Rose's back, pressing their bodies together until they're flush. Perhaps I wouldn't be so angry if Rose were in the moment, willing, but right now her mind's a million miles away, snug in the TARDIS.

"I'm real," Mickey breathes against Rose's throat. She shivers, hands coming up to rest on his chest.

"You know how I feel about that," Rose speaks at last. Her eyes are still blank, a little too dark for my liking. "This is never going to be my universe. I'll never belong here."

"Not even if I'm here?" Mickey drags his mouth across her jaw before pulling back to look Rose in the eye. Before she can speak, Mickey presses their lips together softly, a promise of what's to come. Rose remains still, the mask slowly crumbling from her eyes until those beautiful, brown irises looks dull with age.

I step closer to them, my hands drawing into claws. My first instinct is to drag Mickey away, because even though he doesn't have evil intentions, though he cares about Rose, he doesn't _know_ her. Mickey knew the girl who held his hand and told him about her listless days at the little shop she worked at. Rose has long since changed and it's so subtle that I can't blame Mickey for missing it. All the same, I want to tear him off of Rose and haul him to the other side of the room.

_"You've still got Mister Mickey, then."_

_Consolation prize. Mickey's worth more than that, but right now there's nothing else to compare it to, he thinks._

"I was here for you every time he flew off," Mickey says roughly, pressing kisses along her jaw, on her nose. "I was here. If we're here, aren't I enough?"

"Mickey," Rose breathes, face just a little too blank.

He kisses her again, harder this time. Harsher, as though it'll chain Rose to his side.

"Mickey," she says again. This time, there are tears in her eyes, the first I've seen since curling up with Rose in her bed.

Mickey looks at her, just looks.

_"Here you are, living a life, day after day. The one adventure I could never have." _

_It's meant to dissuade her, to show Rose that this is better than trying to keep up with him as she ages and withers away. _

_But it doesn't work. It hasn't, not for awhile now, not for either of them. They're just in too deep. _

_"Am I ever gonna see you again?" _

_He can't take seeing her cry. Not her. _

_"You can't." _

_They shatter together._

"I can't," Rose says through her tears, blinking and reaching up to brush them away. _She hasn't allowed it for a long time_, I think, hearts heavy as I watch Rose's chest heave against Mickey's. But this time, it can't be stopped. "I can't, Mickey. I'm sorry." The dam breaks. Tears flood Rose's brown eyes, streak down her cheeks. Rose crumples against Mickey, wrapping her arms around her friend's neck as she sobs.

"Shh, it's alright," Mickey whispers into Rose's ear, rocking them back and forth. "I've got you."

This is the first time I voluntarily walk away. As I reach the edge of the spaceship, Rose's fantastic creation, I look back at the two of them. Rose isn't making any noise. She has her head pressed to Mickey's shoulder and as she stares in the direction of her ship, silent tears roll down to caress her jaw.

I clamp my mouth shut against my own tears, staring resolutely at Rose's face, memorizing it again.

_I'm sorry_. One tear slips past my defenses. _I'm so sorry_.

I drift away to the scent of stardust.

* * *

to be continued

* * *

**a/n**: Not sure how I felt about this one. Too much drama. Oh well. The entire section on the moon in orbit without a planet (which I've shifted the laws of physics to allow,) the location at least, is made up, but I was referencing things from the very first Doctor. Hope I did alright with that.


	5. v (i)

**T**he One Adventure **I**'ll **N**ever Have

part v (1/2)

**.**

_"I can see everything. All that is, all that was, all that ever could be." _

_"That's what I see, all the time. And doesn't it drive you mad?"_

_"My head-" _

_"Come here." _

_"-it's killing me." _

_"I think you need a doctor."_

**.**

_"Who was she?"_

_"I don't know." _

_"What did she look like?" _

_"She was...blonde."_

_"What was her name?"_

_"I don't know."_

_"Donna, what was her name?"_

_"She told me...to warn you. She said two words." _

_"What two words? What were they? What did she say?" _

_"...Bad Wolf."_

**.**

I taste ash. It clings to the back of my tongue lovingly, greedily. It laughs and I feel blue flames licking up the inside of my throat, scratching my esophagus. It speaks and I hear a dead language, so familiar that my ears begin to ring with the memory of screams. A deadly facade.

Time Lords are renowned for carrying no weapon. No one understands why I persist in such a silly tradition. I am alone, the last of my kind. There is no High Council to judge my motives.

There was, once. There were red hills and a citadel overlooking the species below, a little room hidden in the depths of the city, protected by a righteous few, occupied by a dais. Upon it was a portal through which our young could see the Time Vortex in all its ferocious glory.

We used weapons during the war. Not our powers of persuasion, not through haughty spectacles - though there were those, too. We clutched blades crackling with the Energy of Time. They advanced, we retreated, exchanging glancing blows and rolling over and over through desolate plains as friends exploded into bones and blue light. At one point - in the past and always, without fail, in my nightmares - I had a Dalek at my mercy, its beady eye staring at me, daring me.

They thought we were cowards. We thought every creature deserved a chance to be saved.

But I killed. We all did. I towered over the Dalek with its metal prison, breathing heavily as it laughed. _Laughed, _as if Daleks could understand such a concept.

"You will be so alone," it croaked through a shattered voice transmitter, its mouthpiece dangling, dripping dark black oil onto the ground. "So alone, Doctor."

I remember screaming then, lunging forward in my desperation and sinking my blade through the Dalek's defenses. Burying my head into the Dalek's outer shell, I felt it shudder, electric power crawling through its core. Then it fell, fell like a domino, bathed in an electric current, hitting the ground, and I was a murderer.

When I looked up, the sky was black. I could hardly tell ash from Dalek. Behind me, the citadel burned, shrieking as it crumbled.

* * *

"Doctor, wake up."

_"You will be so alone. So alone, Doctor."_

"Doctor, c'mon. Get up, Doctor!"

_"You have to help me," someone wheezed. I turned, drenched in Dalek oil. One of my dear friends was lying on the ground, chest heaving. I hurried to his side, but - no. He was gone, eyes staring, glassy, at the molten edges of Gallifrey. _

_"Please. Please help me," the voice came again, shrouded in tears._

_I looked to the left and froze. A tiny Dalek lay in the dust, covered in the oil of its fallen brethren. It couldn't have been more than six months old. A baby; they'd sent a child to fight us. _

_I opened my mouth to speak but all that came out was a choked sound. The tiny Dalek turned its head slowly, feebly, its cracked eye focusing on me. The light in its eye was fluctuating between blue, green and purple and back again, fading away. _

_"Please," the little one begged, and I found myself shaking my head. It couldn't be. Daleks didn't have emotions, didn't have the capacity to beg. No, surely it was tricking me, playing games until my barriers were lowered. _

_I took a step back. My eyes were burning with ash, with tears. _

_Save it, one of my hearts screamed. This is what you fight for, isn't it? Giving second chances?_

_The little Dalek began to shudder, oil dripping from beneath its face plate. _

_I ran. _

"Doctor!" A stinging pain erupts across my cheek and I fling myself up, nearly bashing Martha's face in. My tongue presses itself into the side of my now swollen cheek and I taste ash.

"What now?" I whine, still not at all sure of where I am. My fingers begin to rub at my eyes, scrubbing at the blurriness. "Have the Sycorax come back for round three? According to Clause Fifty-Six of the Shadow Proclamation-"

"Doctor," Martha interrupts, looking a bit cross. Taking a minute to study her, I find tell-tale bags under her weary brown eyes. She's wearing a black uniform similar to the those I've seen at Torchwood, the label of the company stitched into one of the front pockets of the leather pants.

"Martha Jones," I slur, looking around at my surroundings in bemusement. "Why haven't you been sleeping?"

Martha's expression morphs from irritation into concern and I wonder what I've said now. "You don't remember?"

"Remember what?" I'm scratching my head now, through my artfully messy brown hair. I still don't know where I am and the thought is disconcerting. I never forget anything. It's the curse of the Time Lords. Well, unless I've been knocked out by a drug. Well, maybe. Well, okay, highly unlikely, but still possible.

"You called me and told me to meet you," Martha says, pinching the bridge of her nose, fingers paling. "Then, of course, you disappeared. I've been searching for you for three bloody days. If I hadn't managed to lock in on the TARDIS, I'd have never found you." She looks around. "Why'd you choose to stop here anyway? I haven't been able to detect any sort of alien activity."

I look around me, focusing on the cold, hard tile and the empty jar of jam by my face. My fingers are still sticky with the substance.

"I'm lying on a kitchen floor," I mumble, sitting up. Dust bunnies knock me right in the mouth and I wince, spitting them out.

Immediately, I freeze, hands digging into the tile as much as they can. Coated in jam, my fingertips drag across the tile, making a screeching sound.

"Yeah, I'd noticed that, thanks," Martha comments."What I _want_ to know is why-"

She stops talking all of a sudden, unusual for Martha. I quickly scan how her face has tightened, still swept up in my own personal nightmare. The room has been untouched, the furniture still in the same place. The same pictures stand proud watch over the rest of their room from their perch on a bookshelf, smiling faces, baby pictures with the date noted in orange print on the corner. A bag of crisps lies on the table by the couch, the colorful wrapper covered in dust.

"Doctor, you know this place, don't you?" Martha asks, voice marginally softer.

I manage a nod, my heart jammed up into my throat. Why would I come- I'd sworn _never _to come here, ever. My eyes trail down and I'm in for another surprise. My comfy tan coat has been traded in for a beaten leather jacket. I have no doubt that if I were to dig into my left pocket I'd find a broken shard of the weapon I used throughout the Time War.

I was dreaming of the war. I'm wearing my last regeneration's horribly baggy jacket. Of course I'm here. It makes sense now.

"Doctor?" Martha murmurs hesitantly.

I swallow. It feels like I'm dislodging a rock.

"Martha, welcome to Rose Tyler's humble abode. Would you care for some crisps? I warn you, they might be a little...crispy."

* * *

"Why did I choose to sleep on the floor?" I'm asking myself twenty minutes later, now propped up against the side of the couch, eyes frozen on the blank telly as I hold a bag of mildly frozen carrots to my swollen cheek. "There was a _perfectly good_ couch right here and I _know_ that Rose's bed can fit-" I clamp my mouth shut too late. Martha is already giving me a curious look.

"Sometimes I think all of this fantastic brainpower goes to waste," I tell her, shaking my head at my own stupidity. "I mean, _really_? The _floor_? It's not as if - oh. Wait. If the jam were...no, no, my superior senses would've detected an anomaly in the jam's ingredients. Martha, did I mention how absolutely delectable jam is? Whoever invented jam was brilliant!"

Martha gives me a little smile as I ramble, trying to distract myself from the fact that I'm in Rose's living room. The silence is too much. I keep waiting for Jackie Tyler to spring out from the pantry and hit me over the head with a jar of preserves.

"Hit me already," I mumble under my breath.

"You want me to what?" Martha asks, raising an eyebrow.

"Oh, no, I was," I stutter. "I didn't mean to…never-mind."

Martha looks at me strangely for a moment and then shrugs, dismissing it. "So, did you want to tell me why you ended up here?" She flushes, realizing how personal her question is. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to...I just thought you didn't like thinking about her, let alone having a sleepover at her flat."

"Right," I say, reaching for the jar filled with raspberry jam at my feet. "Well, considering that I can't remember coming here, I'm guessing the TARDIS found a way to knock me out. She's got a knack for doin' that." I open the top of the jar and scoop out a bit of jam, sliding it onto my tongue. It's bitter, but I relish it anyway.

"I'm assuming the TARDIS dressed you too, then?" Reaching out and scratching her ankle, Martha smirks.

I flush, snapping, "I can take care of that myself."

"Mmm." Martha slides a little closer. Her smirk widens as she leans back against the table adjacent to the couch, the movement jostling the table and sending one of Jackie's maganizes onto the floor. It lays there pitifully, the pages bent. "So...the TARDIS likes to kidnap you?"

"You'd be surprised," I answer, twisting my fingers around inside the rim of the jar to make sure I've gotten every last bit. No sense wasting. "There was this one time she thought I'd handled a situation with Ace - one of my old companions - wrong, so she locked me inside the console room and dragged me across several galaxies until I repented. In my defense, Ace was perfectly capable of handling herself and it was _only_ a giant squid-"

"As fascinating as that sounds," Martha cuts me off, "maybe you might like to focus on what you're doing _here_." She holds out a hand for the jam and, cocking an eyebrow, I hand it over. Without even a little pause, Martha digs in, licking her fingers enthusiastically.

I open my mouth to try and say something, then realize I have no bloody idea of what to say. I've never been keen on sharing memories from the Time War, nor Rose, and now I've gotten myself all tangled up in both.

"I'm wearing my last regeneration's jacket," I say finally.

"Feeling nostalgic?" Martha teases, her laughter dying as she notices the way in which my face has seized up. "You don't like who you used to be?"

Now isn't _that_ a loaded question?

"I was...different back then," I answer hesitantly, smoothing a hand over the jacket and digging into the pocket until my fingertips graze the edge of my old blade. "There was this war..."

"The Time War?" Martha supplies helpfully. I go to give her a confused look before remembering that she's a dedicated part of Torchwood and has as much access to alien tidbits as she desires.

Nodding, I say, "Yes, the Time War." Even now, the name shreds my throat as it forces its way out. I don't think I'll ever be able to speak of it without reliving some of the nightmares. "During my last regeneration, I fought in the war and I - this was what I wore." I chuckle flatly. "I suppose I just got attached to it, 's all."

Martha sets the jar of jam in between my bent legs, her hand travelling farther up to press against my knee, squeezing once. "Why are you wearing it now, then?" she asks softly.

My own voice surprises me. I hadn't expected to answer. "Sometimes when I go out to other universes, saving planets and whole species if I'm lucky," another humorless chuckle follows, "I'm reminded of exactly what I lost. But it's so much worse than that, because I caused it." I inhale sharply. "Normally my superior intellect can hold it back, but sometimes I..."

"PTSD," Martha says as my voice drifts off. When I give her a questioning look, she adds, "It's pretty common, at least in my field. People who go through trauma often find themselves stuck perpetually in fight-or-flight mode." Looking at my jacket, she says, "This outfit probably makes you feel safer, if I were to guess."

"You mean _humans_ experience PTSD?" I clarify. "But I'm not-"

"I don't think it matters what species you are." I can feel Martha looking at me sadly but I can't find the energy to answer. My hearts are too busy warring with each other over which nightmare to confront first: the battlefield or the parallel universe into which I lost Rose. The latter wins and in a split second the sound of Rose's laughter is echoing in my head along with an image of our hands linked as we run away from the latest alien threat. My eyes begin to water. Blinking, I try to dismiss the burning feeling that comes with these horrible tears, but it persists.

"You came here," Martha says, pointing out the one thing I'm struggling to bury. _Stop it. Please._ "You feel safe here."

"Felt," I growl too harshly. Martha's fingers dig into my shoulder before retreating into her lap. "Rose knew my last regeneration. She was the first person I brought up the war to. I couldn't keep it from her, not after she -" _Not after she promised me forever. Not after I wanted her to stay._

"I'm sorry you lost her." Martha takes my hand and while I don't uncurl my fingers, I allow the little comfort.

"She took the heart of the TARDIS into herself," I murmer, again without meaning to. Fresh awe ripples through me as I realize yet again the enormity of Rose's sacrifices. "She could've killed herself. Even after I'd sent her away so she wouldn't have to die with me, even after I betrayed her, Rose still came back for me. She said she wanted me safe." Pain follows the ripples and I shudder. Beside me, Martha blinks back tears.

"She sounds brilliant," Martha says, her hand tightening around mine. I clutch at her fingers, needing the contact.

"She was." I lean back against the couch cushion, my vision blurring, mixing kitchens and beaches. "She was absolutely fantastic."

Martha shifts again until her back is resting against the couch. She tucks her legs up and knocks her right knee against my left. "Now I know why I never had a chance with you. Could've clued me in sooner." Absentmindedly, Martha plays with the ring finger of her left hand.

I look over at her, my smile too sad and too tight. "Next time you should rule out the nine hundred year old alien. We tend to have a phobia of commitment."

"Yeah," she answers softly. I nudge her knee with mine.

"You should get back to Torchwood," I tell her. "Take a shower though first, yeah? You're startin' to smell a bit ripe."

Martha rolls her eyes. "And whose fault is that?" She mumbles something about my crooked sense of time.

"You could've stopped for the night to take a shower," I point out. "Don't put this on me, Martha Jones."

Martha just stares at me for a moment before a smile breaks across her face and she laughs. I can't help but chuckle.

"You're incredible, you know that?" Martha asks after she's caught her breath, eyes twinkling.

"So I've been told," I brag with a wink.

We laugh together for a moment. Martha's eyes remain trained on my face, contemplative.

"I'd ask you if you want to go grab some fish and chips with me, but I have a feeling you'd spout off some intergalactic meeting you're late for." Her tone is humorous, but I can tell that some small part of Martha would really like me to say yes. It's the same part of her that will always miss travelling through the stars, despite her knowledge of how impractical it is.

"It's really good to see you," I tell her honestly, reaching over and scooping her into a tight hug. Martha buries her face into the side of my neck and I hear her breath hitch slightly. When we pull apart, though, Martha already has a fortified, bright expression on.

"You still have my mobile, yeah?" Martha asks, waiting for my mumbled affirmative. "I've plugged my new number in. Call if you need anything. I can handle alien crises." Her hand cups my cheek ever-so-briefly. "Take care of yourself, Doctor."

With that, we stand. My joints pop as I struggle upward. I follow Martha to the door, waiting until she opens it before I hold it for her.

"Martha Jones," I say, trailing off because I'm not sure how to finish the thought. Instead, I just beam at her, not the kind of smile I used in the months following Rose's disappearance, but an actual grin. Martha seems to understand.

Just before she closes the door, Martha pauses.

"Everything alright?" I ask her with a little frown.

Her mouth purses. "Do you even remember why you called me here?"

I stop to think about it, but all I draw is a blank. What could've been so important that I needed both a trusted friend and top notch Torchwood agent with me, here of all places?

"You have no idea, do you?" Martha asks.

"Nope." I pop the 'p.'

She shakes her head at me. "I'm gonna go ahead and say that you needed a friend."

I don't really have anything to say to that. My superior Time Lord mind recoils at the idea, but when I look at it as objectively as I'm able, it's a definite possibility.

"Goodbye, Doctor," Martha says. Her fingers trail over the sleeve of my jacket, and she's still smiling when she closes the door behind her.

I stare at her retreating figure through the peep-hole for a long time before backing away. The house suddenly feels too stuffy, partly because of the accumulation of dust, I'm sure. My foot nudges the now-empty jam jar and it rolls around on the floor, clinking softly. At last it comes to a stop by the the beginning of the hall leading to Rose's room. Eager to escape the sudden uprising of dust and pulled along by some force without a name, I tread down the hall, stopping by the first door. I half expect the door to spring open and reveal Rose, glaring at me for interrupting her while she's getting ready. It wouldn't be the first time.

_He's standing over the mainframe of the TARDIS, hands playing aimlessly about with some of the non-life-or-planet-threatening buttons, when it hits him. Eyes wide with excitement, laughter bubbles up and out of his mouth. _

_"Rose?" There isn't any answer. "Rose, I've gotten it!" Pressing one of the buttons and waiting for one of the floor panels to move, revealing a staircase, he bounces about. "I told you that your simple human jokes were no match for my superior intellect!" _

_He descends the stairs, heading toward the direction of Rose's room. It's inevitably where she'll be. As he approaches, the sound of an old Gallifreyan tune drifts along the hall. He'd stored records on the TARDIS before the destruction of his planet, and while it had been too painful to listen to them, he had kept them all the same. Rose had taken to them the moment they'd been uncovered in the TARDIS's library but this was the first time Rose had played one when he was around. Being so in-tune with his emotions, Rose had figured out the emotional chaos such songs caused him and listened to them only when he was otherwise occupied. _

_The song brings tears to his eyes and, without thinking, he drifts closer to the source. _

_"Rose," he croaks as he draws nearer to her open doorway. He can hear Rose humming from inside. "I get it now! At first I thought it was silly for a number to be frightened of another, but this - this is brilliant." _

_She continues to hum. The music must be too loud for Rose to hear him. _

_"The structure of the joke is just fantastic," he continues, marching toward the open door. "So simple, yet, poignant. Because 7-" he rounds the corner of the doorway. "Ate-" _

_He smacks straight into something soft, giving, and it hisses. Eyes flickering up bare skin, he meets Rose Tyler's stunned gaze. _

_She isn't wearing a shirt. _

_"Nine," he finishes weakly, finding it hard to breathe. _

_His fingers descend from where they've leapt up in fright, accidentally brushing against the purple lace of her bra. Heat flashes through him, burning, echoed by the red climbing up Rose's cheeks. For a moment they just stare at each other, but the spell is broken when his eyes drift helplessly back down to caress her soft skin. _

_"Doctor," Rose whispers. He can feel her body trembling where it's pressed against his own. _

_Suddenly, he realizes exactly what's happening. "I- I'll just-" he backs away, hands up as though expecting Rose to slap him. "The joke, and I - well -"_

_"You - you should probably go," Rose says shakily. Her pupils are slowly devouring her eyes, black, so black. _

_"Right," he says, trying to ignore the part of him that really, really doesn't want to go. To cover it up, he laughs awkwardly, scratching at the back of his neck. "I'll - I'll just be up there, working on the TARDIS. Same old life." _

_He scrambles away, the image of Rose silhouetted in the doorway burned into his retinas. The Gallifreyan melody echoes hauntingly in his mind. _

My hand reaches out and pushes gently on the door. It swings open, revealing Rose's room. Before I can actually take anything in and feed the persistant ache in my chest, I collapse on Rose's bed, curling into a ball. The covers smell like her. The wall closest to the bed is covered in drawings - dragons, castles, stars and galaxies - made with permanent markers, a memory of the little girl Rose used to be. The doodles have stood guard over Rose through the years and here they remain even after she's gone.

I close my eyes, trying not to think of purple lace and what's underneath it, how it felt to run my hands over Rose's skin and feel so completely safe with another being.

* * *

When I open my eyes, I'm no longer in Rose's bedroom.

I'm standing on a landing platform on what resembles what humans would call a UFO. The familiar gold balls attached to the circumfrance of the ship have my hearts racing.

In front of me stands a handful of people in dark blue uniforms. They aren't wearing masks, so there must be an oxygen field established here on top of the gravity field. Their faces are grim, some covered in cuts and others barely recognizable through the blood. They're clustered in a vague sort of triangle shape and at the head of the triangle is Rose. My joy at seeing Rose is cut short by a sharp stab of terror.

Not less than two feet in front of Rose is a Dalek, it's blue eyepiece fixed firmly on her face.

* * *

**to be continued**

* * *

**a/n:** I'm sorry this took so long. Writer's block is always fun. ;D


	6. v (ii)

**T**he One Adventure **I**'ll **N**ever Have

part v _(ii)_

.

_"Maybe that's what the Devil is in the end: an idea."_

.

_ "Rose Tyler: Defender of the Earth!"_

.

_"Can't you come through properly?"_

_"The whole thing would fracture. The two universes would collapse."_

.

* * *

_In front of me stands a handful of people in dark blue uniforms. They're clustered in a vague sort of triangle shape and at the head of the triangle is Rose. My joy at seeing Rose is cut short by a sharp stab of terror._

_Not less than two feet in front of Rose is a Dalek, it's blue eyepiece fixed firmly on her face._

* * *

"We are wai-ting," the Dalek shrieks. "Ex-plain!"

Crossing her arms (and hiding the way in which her fingers are trembling in the process, I notice,) Rose answers sharply, "You still 'aven't told me what it is I'm supposed to be explaining." Rose's features school themselves into blatant disapproval, her lower lip poking out from underneath its sibling.

The Dalek scoots back a little, looking thoroughly intimidated, to my satisfaction. I'm still huddled on the edge of the platform, surrounded by a parade of dancing stars. All I need to hear is the precise reason _why_ Rose Tyler decided to come aboard a Dalek ship in order to assess the current danger level. Although, considering how irked the Daleks are - if the malicious spark in their blue eyestalks is any indication - it seems just as likely that Rose stumbled onto the ship by accident. _She always was accident prone_, I remember with a fond little smile, shaking my head a second later and tuning back into the conversation.

"You have crossed an in-ter-gal-act-ic bound-a-ry with-out the pro-per id-en-ti-fi-cat-ion," the Dalek informs Rose at last. "Now you must suf-fer the con-se-quen-ces."

"You're kiddin' me, right?" Rose asks, arms tightening about her chest. She _would_ try to intimidate them. "I just updated my Slitheen honor codes last month. You had no right to stop me." Her eyebrows dip down, curving along with the sides of her eyes as she glares at the silent Dalek.

The Dalek's outer shell begins to quiver as it stares across at Rose and I can taste the electricity in the air. It's practically forcing itself to keep from smiting Rose right here and now, I determine as the sick feeling in the pit of my stomach continues to grow. If Rose doesn't stop taunting the Dalek, she'll be dead in seconds.

"Now," Rose continues, tapping her right foot on one of gold balls lying on the floor next to her. It crackles with leftover energy. "You're gonna let us go right now or I'll have no choice but to-"

"Do you know who you speak to?" The Dalek growls, quivering more fiercely. Two more Daleks creep forward to flank the first, all staring at the space in between Rose's eyes. "We are the migh-ti-est race in ev-er-y kn-own un-i-ver-se! You are on-ly a pa-the-tic hu-man." All three slide toward Rose, the two recent arrivals stationing themselves so that Rose is surrounded on three sides by Daleks and the fourth by the rest of her crew.

"Pathetic human, huh?" Rose asks, her voice husky. She releases her arms and they swing down to her sides, fingers brushing against her hips before curling into fists. Rose shakes her head and I wince as a smile begins to worm its way onto her face. She's really going to get herself killed, isn't she? I'm going to have to watch her _die _after all the times I promised to protect her. What kind of sick joke-

"You are the sc-um of the un-i-ver-se," the Dalek in front of Rose clarifies. All three Daleks move in again, their plungers attaching to Rose's arms even as she struggles to shake them off. "And now I shall wa-tch you per-ish," croons the Dalek that appears to be in command. It raises up its whisk-like appendage and aims it at Rose's chest, pausing as Rose lets out a snort followed by giggles.

"Wh-at is the mea-ning of this?" asks the Dalek to Rose's left. "Ex-plain! _Ex-plain!_"

Rose presses a hand to her mouth, muffling a laugh. "Sorry," she murmers, wiping a trail of spit beading on the corner of her jaw. "I just - none of you have any idea of who I am? Not the slightest clue?"

_Just what is she up to now?_ I watch her suspiciously, worry still eating away at my insides.

"Re-veal your id-en-ti-ty," orders the Dalek in command. It presses its particle gun to the crook of Rose's elbow, trying to appear threatening. It isn't like there's any need for that, though. I frown, lines burrowing into my forehead. They're already intimidating enough without petty verbal threats. Which means that they have to be curious about Rose; they probably want to see if Rose is any threat to their regime, although they would never admit to something of the sort.

Rose tilts her head to the side, pressing a finger to her lips as though thinking deeply. "Well," she speaks at last, "some call me the Defender of the Earth."

The Daleks all quickly scoot back a foot, watching Rose warily. I watch them, confused. Yes, I'd given Rose the nickname Defender of the Earth when we'd met in Bad Wolf Bay but it had been more of a joke to keep myself from tearing through the Void to get to her side. Apparantly it isn't just a playful remark anymore, if the Daleks' reactions are any indication.

"You are the one who wi-ped the Cy-ber-men fr-om ex-is-ta-nce?" The Dalek in front of Rose asks the question slowly. She's taken control of the situation, just like that. _Oh, Rose,_ I think, _you're brilliant_. _Simply brilliant_.

"That was me, yeah," Rose murmers with a dangerous smile. "I warned them, though, not to do anything rash" she adds, shrugging. "But then they went and attacked the Sontaran and I couldn't just let them take the universe down with 'em, could I?"

"Wh-ose help did you en-list?" asks the Dalek to Rose's right, probably already plotting how to cut off Rose's source of help. I wait for the names myself, curious as to whom Rose would affiliate herself with. She'd always been pretty trusting when we travelled together, though not stupid. Her companions here would have to be intelligent, identifiable and very private. Which means they'll be the first priority on the Daleks' list.

"No one," Rose says, crossing her arms and leaning toward the Dalek in front of her. "I've dealt with you lot before. Why would I need help?"

"You have ne-ver met us be-fore," the Daleks chorus all at once.

"Oh, but I have," Rose promises. She grins then, tongue peeking from between her teeth, that mischevious little smile one of many things I've missed about Rose since our separation. "See, I'm not from this universe. I used to travel in a parallel world with a man known as the Oncoming Storm." At that, the Daleks scoot back even further, eyestalks twitching furiously.

Rose's grin grows. "Oh, you've heard of 'im then." She takes a step forward, following the retreating Daleks. "Wait, that's right. You were there in the parallel universe, brought over in a Time Lord capsule. Conquering the world and all that." Waving her hand dismissively, Rose continues briskly, her voice growing darker with each word. "I met your four leaders, the Dalek advisors that brought you there, and I'll tell you the same thing that I told them."

One of the Daleks hisses, "You will not con-tin-ue."

"I met your emperor," Rose murmers, ignoring the Dalek, "and I turned him to dust. I was there with the Oncoming Storm on the day that all of you were released into our world and it was me an' him that sent you back." Her back stiffens. "Thanks to you, though, I got stuck here, and let me tell you something. I travelled with the Oncoming Storm, the one you all fear, for awhile. He taught me everything." She's not smiling now, the words tumbling out of her and making me wonder how long she's been holding them in. My hearts thunder against my chest.

"You su-gg-est that he would come here," the Dalek in command assumes. All three make gutteral sounds that resemble something like laughter. "The Void would coll-apse and kill us all. You are a-lone."

Rose shakes her head. "No, I'm not sayin' he'd do something stupid like that." My hearts sink in unison. "You're all so scared of him, just one man, when you should really be scared of me." She stares at them for a long moment, face frozen in apathy. "And I'll never be alone, not so long as he's alive out there somewhere." In that moment I see something so terrifyingly familiar in her brown eyes that I'm forced to shrink back.

She looks like a combination of me just before and after the Time War, shining with purpose and defiance, ancient and ageless all at once. If I look closely enough, I can make out the golden glimmer of Bad Wolf and have to wonder if it ever really left her. Rose is at her most brilliant, and it's everything I thought I wanted her to achieve. But it's not. It really isn't, because this particular job isn't about justice for the universe. This is about Canary Wharf. Rose is here for revenge.

My mouth opens, though I'm not sure what I mean to say. But the situation is already shifting. Rose's hands are a blur, one shooting out behind her to catch a small pistol while her other hand rips a particle gun from the inside of her purple jacket. Before the Daleks can even begin to scream "exterminate," Rose has turned the pistol on the first Dalek and fired twice. The first shot dissolves a foot away while the second breaks through the Dalek's protective force-field and shatters its eyestalk.

"My vi-sion has been im-pair-ed," the Dalek wails, spinning around as it tries to find where Rose has gone.

Everything breaks into chaos. The rest of Rose's crew pulls out whatever weapons haven't been confiscated and get to work taking care of the nearest Daleks. Light beams are flying from the Daleks' whisk-like weapons and wherever they connect, screams break out. Two men and one women fall, light illuminating their skeletal structure before leaving them empty and glassy-eyed. The remainder of the crew coalesce, fighting from every side.

I catch a glimpse of Rose. She has both arms out, firing expertly at the Daleks in front of her. They're clustering, buzzing like angry hornets. Rose moves beautifully, her lithe body weaving about as she takes down one Dalek after another, leaving them to spin in confused circles. Even still, slowly but surely, she's being backed into a corner where several metal tubes contain message beacons. I follow them, moving without really thinking about it, drawn to the building panic in Rose's eyes.

It isn't like Rose to put herself in a situation like this. Rose is as good at getting out of traps as she is falling into them. But this time, as the Daleks form a semi-circle around Rose and push forward until her back hits the metal tubes, she might not make it out. And it begs the question if she planned this revenge fully knowing that she wouldn't make it out. My steps quicken until I'm nearly running to get to her.

"Do you have a-ny last words be-fore you pe-rish?" The Daleks are speaking in unison again, probably to sound more threatening.

Rose's back straightens, jaw settling tightly. I used to be able to read Rose so well but this time I can't even tell if she's scared. She just looks determined, the bags under her eyes suggesting the same weariness I've spotted every time I have gotten to visit Rose.

"Just two," she says, eyes dancing with something tragic that I can't make out. "Bad Wolf."

"Rose," I breathe, eyes going wide, and break into a sprint.

The Daleks all fire at once, the greenish beams merging inches from Rose's chest. Her entire body illuminates, skin dancing with green-blue sparks, and I can't see Rose's face. As she crumples, a choked sound forces its way from my mouth. _No, she can't be gone._

It's only as the Daleks turn away and Rose's body hits the floor that I see her hands raised in front of her. They're glowing, golden particles spinning just above the surface of her palms, and appear to be holding back the green beams. She's surrounded by green, outlined in gold, and when Rose opens her eyes a fraction, they're too bright to look at. She curls into a fetal position, shaking.

The moment I reach Rose's side, I press my hands on either side of her head and lean down until I can count the freckles dusted across Rose's cheeks. Her eyes - slowly losing their brilliance until all that's left is brown edged in glitter - rotate, locking on my face. Too busy making sure that Rose isn't actually hurt, I forget that I'm not actually here.

"It's alright," I tell her, going to stroke her hair with my left hand before pausing. Surely Rose doesn't want anyone touching her right now. "I don't know why you've been experimenting with the remnants of the TARDIS's heart inside of you, but I'm really glad that you did." Blinking back tears, I beam down at her, frowning when she doesn't respond. "Just don't tell your mum. She'll only slap me again. Everything's my fault when it comes to you." Still she doesn't respond and then I remember, the crushing weight descending on me even as her eyes remain stubbornly locked on my face. I don't know what she's looking at or why it appears like she's actually gazing at me, but it doesn't matter. Rose is here. She's okay. Everything's okay.

_Except for the whole stuck in parallel universes bit_, my superior Time Lord brain reminds me. I swallow back the thought, locking it away so this moment with Rose won't be tainted.

"But I guess I could take the blame this time," I tell Rose, giving into the temptation to stroke my thumb over her temple. Rose's eyelashes tickle the skin under her eyes and she sighs, still trembling as she holds the beams away. "You're worth it, Rose Tyler. Always." The words sound horribly cliche and I'd never actually tell her any of this, but I'm not here so it doesn't matter.

"Your lack of faith in me is astounding," I joke, running my thumb down her cheek to the corner of her mouth. Her tongue jerks out, touching the edge of my thumb, and I jump at the contact. I search Rose's eyes for any indication that she can see me but find nothing. She's still looking right at me, but the normal intensity that accompanied that look around me isn't here, leaving her gaze dull, listless. "All right, if you really want to know...if travelling to this parallel universe didn't cause both of 'em to be ripped into the Void, I'd be here in a heartbeat."

The truth I've never allowed myself to linger on sounds raw on my tongue, unimaginably selfish. As the last Time Lord, I ought to be saving people and protecting the universes, not honest-to-god thinking about destroying whole universes just to get to my pink and yellow human that I'll end up losing in seventy years anyway.

Rose opens and closes her mouth several times, a spark coming to life in her eyes. Her fingers curl around the golden radiance, petting it. I'm so caught up watching her that I don't hear the footsteps behind me until a body sinks through my incorporal one. I shiver, rolling away and giving a hard, unappreciative look at the newcomer. He's handsome with dark, cropped hair and a slim figure, although the concerned way in which he's eyeing Rose has me seething.

"Hey, Stephen," Rose greets the man with slurred words. He brushes the back of his hand across her sweat-drenched forehead and Rose smiles faintly, eyes fluttering as though she's trying desperately to keep awake. By the way that the green beams are slowly eating through the golden film, I assume that Rose is putting all of her energy into staying alive.

"Hey you," Stephen answers quietly, smiling at her. "Time to go."

Rose frowns and I look around, the furrow in my brow deepening as I find the fight still very much in progress. Daleks and humans alike are firing like crazy, slinking around each other in wide circles as they size the opponent up.

"Where 's everyone?" Rose asks blearily. She blinks, the movement slow and uncoordinated. "Are Monica and Jer-"

"None of that matters." Stephen pulls something out of his satchel and I watch with narrowed eyes as he drapes the yellow button around Rose's neck. "You need to get somewhere safe."

"No, I can't," Rose insists. "I need to do something first." She sits up, stilling and bowing her head forward as though dispelling dizziness.

"We have to go now," Stephen argues, reaching out for the yellow button.

Tearing one of her golden-infused hands away from her chest and leaving the other to battle weakly against the green particles, Rose smiles at Stephen. "Never again," she whispers, lips wobbling. Taking a deep breath, Rose slams her hand down onto the platform she's lying on. Gold dust explodes from her fingertips, incinerating whatever it comes in contact with.

"Now, give me a minute to concentrate and I can get all of us out of here," Rose promises Stephen.

Stephen looks around him. Daleks are closing in fast, bodies falling helplessly in front of them.

"No," he growls. "If we don't go now we'll all be dead."

Realization strikes Rose in the face just as the nearest Dalek raises its whisk-like appendage and aims it straight at Stephen.

"I won't leave them," she murmers, trying to get to her feet. She only ends up falling into Stephen's chest and his arms go around her instinctively. Around them, the ship continues to deteriorate, gold illuminating the darkness around them. Black smoke pools about them, making Rose cough.

The Dalek fires. I watch, terrified, as the green beam tears its way across the small space.

"I'm sorry," Stephen says. He slams his hand down on the yellow button just as the green beam reaches them and passes through thin air where the two bodies once stood. I'm torn after them, somehow linked to Rose's consciousness in a way that necessitates my proximity to Rose.

We emerge in what appears to be a lab, the _Torchwood_ logo emblazoned over the doorway. Stephen lowers a struggling Rose onto a mat before wheeling her toward the door.

"What have you done?" Rose whispers against the fabric of Stephen's shirt.

He doesn't answer, simply heading for a hallway which the signs suggest lead to a set of employee bedrooms.

"No," Rose groans. "You have to - you can't - take me to the particle stabilizer now."

"Rose, I can't-"

"_Now_," she orders in the tone I would often refer to as the Jackie Tyler voice. "I can't keep this up for much longer."

"What are you...?" Stephen trails off as he notices the golden glimmer emanating from Rose's hands. "What is that?"

"It's nothing. Just something I've been able to utilize," Rose dodges smoothly. She tips her head back and her eyes flicker with something like fear. "I can only hold it for about 5.2 minutes or it'll consume me. It's already eating away."

_What have you done, Rose?_ The last time Rose used the power of the TARDIS's heart, I had to take away the excess energy and regenerate just to keep Rose from dying. How does she plan on getting out of this one? Unless, perhaps, a thin layer of the TARDIS's heart clung to Rose's insides back when she saved my life on Satellite Five and this is a watered down version, extremely effective but not fatal, I hope.

Stephen wheels Rose into a room with a machine similar to the one I used in an attempt to evade the conscious Sun's desire to take over my body. The memory of that night still has me cringing. The premonition of Rose's death had been hanging over my head as I'd faced the Devil and I'd been so cocky then, so unwilling to admit that there might be a shred of truth to it.

Lying Rose down on a cot, Stephen slides her into a machine lit up with flashing blue rings. Rose's body is quivering, her teeth chattering as she tries to stay still.

"Set it for thirty seconds," she orders him.

Stephen gives her a concerned look. "No one's been able to stand it for longer than ten."

"I can," Rose says fiercely, locking eyes with him until, with a little nod, Stephen relents. "Do it now."

Stephen twists a couple of buttons on the machine next to the pod in which Rose is lying. Several beeps sound out and the pod begins to glow. Rose bites down on her bottom lip as sweat breaks out on her forehead. The moment that Stephen twists a knob and presses a green button with the word _stabilize_, Rose lets out a little groan, her back arching off the cot. Green particles begin to disconnect from the mist surrounding Rose's body, swirling into a circle around her before zooming into a little compartment on the upper left-hand side of the pod. A bright light begins to build in the machine, a gold too bright to be anything but the heart of a TARDIS.

I creep closer, unable to stand so far away when Rose is suffering. The clock on the switchboard reads nineteen seconds and counting. When I peek into the pod, Rose is crying silently, golden tears slipping down her jawline and landing on her purple jacket. Golden particles are slowly being leeched from her hands and her fingernails are digging into the cot so tight that I can see droplets of blood beginning to form. I reach out for her, my hearts escalating in tempo as my hand comes in contact with the swirling particles around Rose. They sing at my absence, happy to see me and wondering where I've been all this time. Somehow they've been able to accept Rose as a host even though it should've been impossible. The heart of the TARDIS is too strong for all, even Time Lords. We can only harness their power when they are willing.

With a beep, the machine hits thirty seconds and depowers. The last of the particles disappear into the compartment which shuts promptly with a click. Rose's back hits the cot and she exhales sharply, tears still clinging to her eyelashes. Before I can do more than offer her a watery smile I know she cannot see, Stephen has stepped forward. Stretching out his arms, he pulls a very still Rose from the pod and places her in a wheelchair he must've pulled over when I wasn't paying attention. After checking to make sure that the machine is completely off, Stephen wheels Rose from the room toward the hallway where the bedrooms are. He stops by one with the number _010105_ written on the right-hand side and opens it.

"Do you want me to lay you down?" Stephen asks Rose softly.

"No. I'll be fine," Rose answers. "If you could bring me a cup 'o tea, that'd be lovely, though."

"Of course," Stephen says. "I'll be back in a minute."

Rose nods slowly, remarking with a raspy voice, "Take your time."

Once the door has shut behind Stephen, Rose wheels herself over to the nightstand and reaches for a familiar little notebook filled with what looks like various scribbles and photos. With a start, I realize that it is a notebook I've had stashed on the TARDIS for centuries. It had been given as a present from the elders of Gallifrey upon the completion of my training. They had encouraged me to write in it, to contemplate the meaning of the universe and the Time Vortex. I never had and ever since it's been gathering dust in one of the rooms the TARDIS dredges up from time to time. How Rose got her hands on it, I have no idea.

"How could I have been so bloody _stupid_?" Rose fumes, running a hand over the top of the notebook before lying it back to rest on the nightstand. "I never should have brought any of them in the first place. They trusted me to keep them safe." She presses the same hand up to her mouth in a fist as her eyes shine with furious tears. "They trusted me to keep them safe."

"Take it from me," I tell her, relieved of the burden of propriety. "Revenge plans never benefit anyone. Last of the Time Lords, remember?" I waggle a finger at my hearts, chuckling into the silence.

Rose is shaking her head, looking a little too much like Jackie Tyler. Where is that woman anyway? Not that I'm complaining, but it seems a little out of character for Rose not to be around her mother. Rose loves those female chats about anything and everything rubbish, even though she'd always insist that she couldn't take too much of Jackie Tyler. The woman could be a little overbearing, at best.

There's a crash. Rose has smacked the lamp in the corner to the floor and the bulb lays shattered, jagged bits glittering in the afternoon light. She runs a hand through her hair and leans back in her wheelchair, just looking at the mess, and I'd be lying if I said I didn't understand what she was going through now. It's unavoidable when you've made your life's mission protecting people. You screw up and someone gets hurt, killed even, and suddenly everything you've been working for comes to nothing. You feel as if you've absolutely failed, condemning an innocent family to mourn the loss of a son or daughter while you stand there alive when it's you who should've died.

Stephen hurries into the room, not bothering to knock. "What's wrong?" he asks, coming to a stop when he sees the broken lamp on the ground. "Are you alright?"

"Oh, _yeah_, I'm just brilliant," Rose begins in that tone which suggests someone's demise. "After all, we just abandoned our friends on a disintegrating Dalek ship and the only reason they were there in the first place is because I was so determined for _revenge_!"

Running a hand through his dark hair, Stephen murmers, "It's not your fault."

"I could've stopped you from taking me," Rose insists, crossing her arms.

"No, you really couldn't have," Stephen snaps. Rose clamps her mouth shut. "I wasn't going to sit there and see you get hurt, and nothing you could've said or done would have stopped me from getting you out of there."

"Well then, you're just a fool," Rose remarks coldly. "Saving a woman who will willingly abandon her comrades."

"Is that really what you think of yourself?" Stephen takes a step forward into Rose's personal space and she eyes him warily. He holds up his hands in a gesture of goodwill. "Do you have any idea how fantastic you are?"

I don't miss the way that Rose flinches at the use of the word. I'd used it quite voraciously throughout my ninth regeneration. Thankfully, she doesn't rise to the bait.

"We're supposed to be keeping people safe," she reiterates, looking around the sparse contents of her room. "If we're willing to leave innocent people to die then what does that make us?"

Stephen opens his mouth and then closes it, his expression a mix of confusion and frustration.

"I'll get your tea," he says at last, stiffly, then disappears again. His back doesn't straighten from its erect posture.

Alone again, Rose slumps into the wheelchair and I take the opportunity to actually look at her room. _If_ it is. Apart from the notebook, anyone could've lived here. The dresser in the right side of the room has one of its doors open and I can see a couple of black_ Torchwood_ uniforms. Below it are stored two pairs of socks and shoes, also black. The bed itself is perfectly made, not one ruffle to be seen. The blue walls have a couple of chips in them, revealing shy snippets of white, but other than that the space is flawless. _She'll always refuse to call this universe home_. She always _had_ been stubborn.

Finally - I'd been starting to wonder - I feel the tug calling me back to my universe. I can smell the sheets from Rose's room in the Powell Estates and it causes a lump to rise in my throat. As I turn to give Rose a last, lingering look, I see the same numbers on the door etched into the headboard of the bed. _010105_. It's a date, I realize. January 1st, 2005.

Now what could be the significance of that?

* * *

**to be continued**

* * *

**a/n:** I am so sorry for not updating sooner. I got a promotion at work and have been utterly swamped with life lately. Hopefully you enjoy this installment and I will try to update as quickly as I can.


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